


Every Night

by jimmoriartyisthebestboss



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, References to Illness, implied PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-16 19:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16500962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jimmoriartyisthebestboss/pseuds/jimmoriartyisthebestboss
Summary: Steve Rogers has been sick for all of his life. Bucky has found a way to help him through the nights.





	Every Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! 
> 
> I want you all to know that I know the tags are a bit all over the place but this story takes place with both pre-serum and post-serum Steve Rogers. This was, however, a really short story I wrote one night. I know that music won't cure Steve's sickness or PTSD but it's enough to help him at least sleep. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!

Bucky didn’t remember turning the music on. All he knew was that he had crawled into bed beside the skinny frame of his best friend and had wrapped his arms around his waist. He didn’t realize that he had woken Steve until Steve stirred and made a noise of discontent. “Bucky?”

“Sorry. Go back to sleep.” Bucky whispers back, smoothing his hand across Steve’s chest and readjusting his head on the pillow.

He hadn’t realized that he had done it. It was an instinct to Bucky to turn on the music whenever it was late at night and Steve was in bed. The past nights had been wracked with coughing, asthma attacks and Bucky trying his best to make sure Steve tried to sleep. It was what the doctor had ordered besides another round of medicine and Bucky tried to stick to their strict schedule. He had noticed that Steve couldn’t sleep most nights. He was restless and moved around a lot. It was something that Bucky was used to when Steve was sick.

This sickness had been worst. It had lasted longer and had symptoms that made Bucky’s stomach feel as if it was dropping out from underneath him. So, he had stuck to a strict regime and forced Steve to as well when he was at work. The nights Steve couldn’t sleep Bucky had turned on their battered-up record player. He couldn’t remember the name of the artist, the songs that played through the night. All he knew was that the music was soft and soothing, a perfect song for a slow dance.

The music was a dance in its own way. It danced Steve into sleep and danced Bucky into peace. It was for those minutes that the music played, and songs changed that they finally would fall asleep together, content. Bucky had worked late tonight, though. He had stayed later when his boss asked so he could make more money, get more medicine, take care of Steve.

It was instinct for him to turn on the music when he entered the room and saw Steve in bed. Bucky had shed his work clothing and crawled into bed with only his underwear on.

His eyes shut as he pulls Steve against his chest. There was a creak as the bed groaned under their weight and Steve turned to slip his slim arms around Bucky’s waist as well. Bucky sighs into Steve’s hair, taking in the scent of his shampoo and body wash.

“I’m glad you’re home.” Steve whispers into his chest.

“I’ll always come home to you Stevie.” The words fall out of his lips and he open his eyes. He watches as Steve’s breath evens out the best it can. When he’s content that Steve is fully asleep, Bucky closes his eyes and is engulfed in darkness.

* * *

Bucky still does it every night. Their apartment in Wakanda is filled with the soft music of the 40’s, this time from speakers hidden in the wall. Bucky’s arm was metal, his memories tattered by the horrible things he had done. Steve breathed easier now, was stronger and couldn’t get sick. Yet there were nights when he would see dreams of the past plague Steve and he’d turn on the music. The handsome blonde man he was in love with would rest better with the music. And Bucky would watch for a minute and marvel at the fact that he was here, with Steve. Then he would tighten his arms around Steve, close his eyes and let the music take him away into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
